Ficly

Entry 19, 3-Word Prompt Chain: bourgeois, pragmatic, debauchery

On the Skids
Terrence sank to the ground, cradling his bottle of Dom. He would be a long time waiting for his next bottle. One had to be pragmatic, after all. Lolling around among these derelicts was instructive; it was good for the humility. But to stoop to some lesser brand of intoxicant was unthinkable. One must have standards, Heaven knows.
The dregs of the bourgeois are my pals, he thought. This fellow, puking on my Oxfords, is doing me good, teaching me patience. His night of seamy debauchery will leave marks upon my life’s path.
Terrence took another swig of fine champagne, wishing aimlessly for a flute to drink it from.
He wasn’t really drunk, but he was doing what he could to get into the Christmas spirit. He remembered Christ’s humble origins and was grateful for the chance to relive the manger life for a while.
Tomorrow he must remember to tell the gardener to make a manger—then recalled that his estate was defunct. Alas!
He wandered away singing, “I’ve got a creche on you—sweetie pie-”

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